


rising static

by skuls



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Martin Blackwood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post mag 189, Season/Series 05, The Web Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives), spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Martin forces his eyes open to look at Jon, bruise blossoming at the top of his forehead, eyes red and wet. "Wh-what's gone?" he asks softly, almost afraid of the answer."It. All of it, or at least some of it, I don't know… I can't feel it anymore. The statements, the Beholding, it's—it's…" Jon breaks off mid-sentence, shaking his head. He leans forward so their foreheads are together, and Martin can feel him trembling all over. He says, voice low and thick with fear, "I'm… not sure I'm the Archivist anymore."---The initial confrontation with Jonah Magnus goes badly, and Martin wakes up outside the Panopticon to find Jon missing. In the wake of this initial loss, something about Martin starts to change.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood & Basira Hussain & Melanie King & Georgie Barker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	rising static

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a spec fic for the final act of tma, based off of my theory that martin will become the next archivist and be the one to turn back the world. (this theory is chronicled in these posts on my tumblr: https://ghostbustermelanieking.tumblr.com/post/618654556099887104/no-one-asked-but-here-is-my-batshit-tma-season-5, https://ghostbustermelanieking.tumblr.com/post/620008631115628544/since-nothing-in-170-has-definitively-disproven-my, https://ghostbustermelanieking.tumblr.com/post/630789698335440896/i-feel-like-my-theory-about-martin-being-set-up-to, https://ghostbustermelanieking.tumblr.com/post/632059802630193152/i-love-that-this-episode-confirmed-martin-is-at). i've actually had this theory for a long time, since towards the beginning of season 5, and nothing has definitively disproved it so far, so i've held onto it. i don't really actually expect this stuff to happen in the show (although if anything similar does, i'll be blown away). in fact, i pretty much expect the opposite. i just wanted to write this fic to get this theory out there before 190 airs, so it'll exist in some shape or form. (i actually wrote the last half of this in the past 24 hours in an attempt to finish before more new content drops.) i actually started a version of this fic way back in june, so it was nice to get a version of it finished. 
> 
> the theory of archivist martin/marked martin does not exclusively belong to me, and there are a lot of great discussions out there speculating about what this evidence could mean. i tried to stay pretty close to my version of the theory so as not to step on anyone's toes through this. 
> 
> content warnings are listed in the end notes at the bottom. please let me know if there is anything i forgot to mention. and thank you for reading!!

Sometime between when they first arrive at the tunnels, and when they leave to try the Panopticon, Martin starts finding cobwebs all over the tunnels. In the corners, hanging from the ceiling, strewn all over the nest of blankets and couch cushions he and Jon have made in a side room in the tunnel. Everywhere. 

He cleans them up in a frenzy, every time, with a fervor he hasn't had since he returned to his flat after Prentiss. Another version of Martin would probably be disgusted with him; his lectures to Jon about the importance of spiders to the ecosystem still rattle around in his brain sometimes. But most of him is still caught in the moment of all these strange confrontations with Annabelle, the vagueness about what the Web wants from them, and he is still angry. If something is manipulating him—if the Web can reach them here, even when the Eye cannot… Martin doesn't want any part of it. 

He tells Jon, but Jon doesn't seem worried. Maybe Jon is too disoriented to be worried, really; being separated from the Eye like this isn't good for him, and he's been out of it for days, pale and feverish and dizzy. But he refuses to go up out of the tunnels, even for a little bit, until they are ready, and as worried as Georgie is, she and Melanie are also worried about drawing too much attention to themselves, or the others down here. (Martin finds it too weird to call them a cult.) So Jon stays in the tunnels, and he fades a little day by day, seemingly quicker than he did at Upton. Martin had hoped that being so close to the Eye's center of power would help Jon fade… more slowly. But this doesn't seem to be the case at all. It's like the state Jon was in at Upton was paused, frozen in place, and now that they're cut off, it's begun again. 

("Is there… anything that can be done to help him?" Georgie asks one night, while Jon is asleep. The three of them are sitting in the tunnels, in the spot near their pallet, and Melanie is dragging a toy across the floor for the Admiral to chase. 

Martin sits, reaching out to pet the cat as he brushes by. Tries to swallow back the tears, the fear building in his throat. Thinking over those days in Upton over and over again, how badly things had gone by the end. "I don't… I don't know," he says thickly, focusing on the Admiral's head nuzzling against his hand. "I don't know. I'm not sure he can survive without the Eye, at all." Georgie is quiet after that, leaning into Melanie and blinking rapidly at the floor, and Martin doesn't say much else, and the only sound is the Admiral pouncing on string.)

Martin doesn't tell Melanie and Georgie about the cobwebs. He probably  _ should,  _ but he doesn't want to scare them. They're on edge enough, worried about Elias and Jon and the safety of the others and the possibility of the world never being saved. He doesn't tell anyone but Jon, who doesn't seem concerned, so it is almost like he tells no one at all. He keeps cleaning them up, and he keeps an eye out for spiders, but there are never any of those. Maybe Annabelle Cane isn't listening. He's halfway waiting for another mysterious phone call, but it never comes. (It doesn't matter, because even if Annabelle tries to talk Martin into leaving Jon again, Martin wouldn't do it. Absolutely not.)

It's nice, being in the tunnels, while they plan their next move, even if Jon is incredibly out of it. They catch up with Georgie and Melanie, and play with the Admiral, and have some warped little version of their time in the oasis, while they plan. It's shorter, because Martin doesn't think Jon could take much more, and they both know it isn't permanent, even more so than before. But it is still something, and Martin can't help but be relieved that he has this time with Jon and their friends, before it all comes to an end. 

He tries not to think about what will happen after. About Jon not surviving being cut off from the Eye, or the possibility of killing Jon, or of asking Jon to kill _him._ Or of the world never going back. He _can't_ think about it. It's too hard. The thoughts creep in while he is lying awake at night, tangled up with Jon in their nest of blankets, and he pushes them away, stubbornly. He's made his decisions, and he'll deal with it all when the time comes, but not before. Not before. They have some time left, and they don't really know how things will end, not really. 

So Martin doesn't think about it. Tells himself that they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. Tells himself to enjoy every single moment of the time they have left—cobwebs or no cobwebs. 

\---

The confrontation with Elias—with Jonah Magnus—doesn't go like they planned. If Martin's learned anything since taking this job, it's that few things ever do. 

Maybe they aren't ready, or maybe Elias is—maybe he's been preparing the whole time. If Martin's being honest, he's been counting on Jon's previous Eye-diverted  _ Ceaseless Watcher  _ stuff to help them like it has all the other times. But maybe the Eye won't interfere with someone serving it as blatantly as Elias, someone who handed the world over to it. Or maybe being the king of a ruined world puts him higher on the hierarchy than Jon. Martin could speculate all day, about why and how and what they could have done differently, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is they lose, at least for the moment. 

Things run together in his memory of the actual confrontation. He remembers Elias being smug. Taunting them about their foolish confidence, useless path of endless revenge. Remembers him saying, contempt dripping from every word, that not all of Jon's power is his own. That when it comes down to it, Head Archivist is still just a  _ title _ , a formality with a bit of paperwork. He remembers the sound of tape recorders clicking on—later, the grating sound of static. 

Martin comes to later on the ground outside of the tunnels, outside the glass tower of the Panopticon, head pounding and ears ringing and eyes, somehow, aching along with the rest of him. In the moment somewhere between consciousness and clarity, before he can fully move, panic seizes him, and he clears his aching throat to call out, "Jon?  _ Jon? _ " 

He doesn't fully relax until he hears the desperate, "Martin!" from somewhere to his left and feels Jon fumbling for his hand. He takes it and holds on hard, turns towards the sound with instinctual relief. Jon's voice, rough and raspy as if he has a head cold, comes again, saying, "Martin…"

"Jon," Martin says gingerly, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulls their joined hands up, wrist trembling with the effort, presses his nose and mouth to the back of Jon's and mumbles, "W-what  _ happened _ ?" 

"I… I don't know," Jon says. It sounds almost painful to talk, his throat scratchy. "I don't… it's  _ gone, _ Martin."

Martin forces his eyes open to look at Jon, bruise blossoming at the top of his forehead, eyes red and wet. "Wh-what's gone?" he asks softly, almost afraid of the answer. 

"It. All of it, or at least some of it, I don't know… I can't feel it anymore. The statements, the Beholding, it's—it's…" Jon breaks off mid-sentence, shaking his head. He leans forward so their foreheads are together, and Martin can feel him trembling all over. He says, voice low and thick with fear, "I'm… not sure I'm the Archivist anymore."

Martin has to shut his eyes at that, unsure of what else to do but knowing it still hurts to have them open. He doesn't know what to say so he says nothing, and just holds onto Jon, as his vision goes spotty, pinholed with black. As Jon folds his arms around Martin and mumbles  _ I'm so sorry  _ into his hair. It all falls away after a moment, everything except his death grip on Jon's hand, and he's out, and when he wakes up, his hand is empty. And Jon is gone. Jon is  _ gone.  _

\---

Georgie is the one who finds him, hair wild like she's been tugging at it, eyes wide and wet with worry. Finds him trying to sit up, shouting Jon's name frantically. She crouches beside him and asks a torrent of questions— _ Martin, what happened, are you all right, are you hurt, what  _ happened, _ where's Jon, where's Jon?  _ She's the one to help him up, her fingers too tight around his hand as she repeats the question. 

Martin is shaking. Shaking with fear and anger and panic as his chest swells with his first instinct, to scream Jon's name again. He looks around the landscape, again and again, but there is only the tower and the tunnels and the cameras and  _ no Jon,  _ no Jon. 

Further back is Melanie, knuckles white where she is clutching her cane, and  _ Basira _ —when did Basira get here?—and Basira is the one to push forward, take him by the shoulders and say, "Martin. Martin,  _ what happened? _ "

Martin's voice shakes when he speaks. He says, "E-Elias—Jonah Magnus… he—he did something. Pushed us out. I dunno. He… he took it. He took it, and now Jon's  _ gone,  _ and I-I don't know how… how we're going to…" He can't finish. His throat is closing up. The prospect is horrifying, that of Jon's powers being taken when it's almost certain that he can't survive without them, but  _ now… _ Has he already lost Jon, without the chance to look for another solution, without the chance to say goodbye?

"Martin, what?" Basira says sharply. "What did he take?"

"The—the Archivist," Martin gets out, teeth gritted, hands clenched into fists. "Jon said he wasn't the Archivist anymore."

He thinks, distantly, that a few months ago, that statement would have been one of the most welcome ones in the world. But the horror dancing over their faces now says something very different. Resembles whatever fear is curdling in his stomach. Like their only chance, any power or upper hand they had in all of this is gone; like anything that Jon could've protected them or  _ himself  _ with is… " _ Shit, _ " Melanie hisses softly, as Basira drops her hands and stumbles back a few steps from Martin. 

Georgie's face is hardening with concern—not fear, because she doesn't feel fear, but panic and concern and… "We've got to find him," she says, stern and unyielding, and Martin blinks back the tears clouding at the edge of his vision and nods, relieved that someone is on the same page. 

They search the nearby streets of London for as long as they can, going as far as feels safe, before Melanie tells them that they have to go back. They can't leave the others, they can't help Jon if they get themselves killed, and they might lose their only advantage, and Martin and Basira both look dead on their feet, even in the part of the world where they can't sleep. Martin agrees to go back last, but he does agree—reluctantly and waveringly, but he does agree, silently apologizing to Jon the entire time. 

He finds two tape recorders in his pocket on the walk back, both running. He doesn't move them; he keeps them in his pocket and even holds onto one while they walk, like that's some sort of tether to Jon or something like that. The walk back is strange, the cameras shifting abruptly to face him or Basira whenever they're more than a couple feet away from Georgie and Melanie. It's strange, Martin thinks, although he doesn't know why; he's always felt watched, ever since he moved to the Archives, but never like…  _ this, _ especially not in the apocalypse. Jon had always drawn the full attention of the Eye, especially in London, with all eyes on him (so to speak). 

The weight of its gaze is enormous on Martin, and he can't quite shake it. It's a relief to step back into the tunnels and feel the weight slough off, even though it means that Jon is still gone. 

\---

Martin has strange nightmares, after Jon vanishes. Fades in and out of horrible situations that aren't even  _ his _ experiences, where he is helpless to do anything but watch. There's a bedroom with a woman on fire. A theater with a clown on stage, a clown that looks  _ wrong, _ and someone who almost looks like Tim standing there with it. A woman being overtaken by a person of ash. A woman trying to climb out of her burning flat, on a fire escape that falls away. Children hiding from the dark. A horrible garden of flesh and bone. A man vomiting mulch, a woman lying on the ground in the rain—the memories of his domain, he recognizes those. And the statement of Jess Tyrell, for some reason, the coffee shop with sand all over the floor, and  _ Jon _ , his face different, drawn with eager hunger, and  _ eyes.  _

(Martin doesn't like those. It makes him think of a time he'd rather forget, and it genuinely stings in the wake of Jon's disappearance. But he supposes that's the point. Nightmares aren't supposed to comfort you; he isn't sure they're supposed to make you confront the awful truth of a situation, either, but they  _ definitely _ aren't meant to comfort you.)

Martin wakes up between dreams, shivering all over, pulling the blankets around him like a cocoon even though it doesn't help. (Jon isn't there to hog them.) His head is pounding again, the way it was after Elias threw them from the Panopticon, and he tries to push it away, tries to go back to sleep, but the nightmares are waiting for him every time. He gives up, eventually, gets up and goes to find the others. He finds Georgie and Basira drinking coffee in the corner of tunnels Georgie and Melanie claimed for themselves; Melanie is apparently with the others, Georgie says. Georgie looks exhausted, huge circles under her eyes. Basira looks mildly more well rested, staring down into her coffee with a blank look on her face. Georgie looks up when Martin enters, wrapping both hands around her coffee cup like she is cold. "Is Jon…?" Martin starts, hopeful for one second—maybe he's asleep somewhere else, maybe he came back and couldn't make it to their bed, or didn't want to disturb Martin… 

Georgie just shakes her head, silent, and Martin feels his face falling. He doesn't say anything. Just gets himself some coffee and sits across from them. There's tea, but he doesn't want tea. Not now. 

Later, after Basira has gone off to find Melanie and it's just Martin and Georgie down there, Georgie asks tentatively, "Do you… do you think he went off on his own? Instead of something… taking him, I mean."

Martin's throat is thick; he takes a long gulp of tasteless coffee. "I don't… I don't know. I don't… y-you know him better than I do, probably."

"I don't think so. Not anymore." Georgie rubs at her forehead. 

"I don't… think that's true," says Martin. "But anyways, I don't… Maybe. Th-there's a good chance he did, you know, that's… t-t-that's exactly the kind of thing he would do, if he thought things were his fault. If he was blaming himself. That's  _ exactly _ the kind of thing he would do."

"I know," Georgie says quietly. "That's… that's what I've been worried about."

Martin's stomach turns, and he stares down into his cup darkly. "Not… not that him being snatched up by something is any better, actually," he says, laughing a little bitterly. "He's… he's  _ completely normal  _ now, a-anything can hurt him! And the Eye is  _ gone, _ and he can't survive without it, a-a-and he might just be  _ gone,  _ he might be dead, m-maybe he just up and  _ disappeared _ while I was lying there passed out. Or hey, maybe he's been pulled into his  _ own  _ fear domain, now that he's normal; maybe he's being tormented forever and he can't ever die and we wont be able to find him or get him out… Looking for him might not even  _ matter _ ."

"Hey, Martin, hey, I don't think…" Georgie reaches out to awkwardly pat his hand. "Y-you're probably right. He's just wandered off. Trying to save the world on his own."

"And we'll find him, right?" Martin says, laughing a little all over again. "We'll find him and bring him back here?" 

"Yes, obviously," Georgie says, her voice so full of conviction that it's hard not to believe her, just a little. Martin pushes up his glasses to rub at his eyes and nod. He really, really hopes so. 

They're quiet for another moment before Georgie speaks again. "I… I didn't get a chance to talk to him," she says quietly. "Before you both left. I-I wanted to, but I… he was so out of it, and I didn't want to leave the tunnels, and…"

"He wanted to talk to you, too," Martin says softly, because he had. They'd talked about it. "He didn't like how the two of you left things. Wanted to clear things up."

"I did, too. I  _ do.  _ I…" Georgie sounds a little choked now. "Martin, I didn't want him to become what he became, but… I never wanted him to… to  _ die. _ "

_ I know,  _ Martin thinks, or,  _ I don't, either.  _ He squeezes his hands around his mug. It's gone cold, now. He says, "I… I don't know if there's another option."

\---

The tape recorders start manifesting for Martin again. 

This shouldn't be strange, necessarily; they've manifested for him before. Even followed him into his domain. But it feels… different, somehow. He can't explain it. They're everywhere, in his pockets and under his pillows and on the table and in the corners of the tunnel. Sometimes they're in with the cobwebs, which doesn't help Martin's unease. 

He tells the others about the webs. It feels important, now, like maybe this was all orchestrated by them. Like maybe there were cobwebs blowing around in Elias's head or something, when he leached power out of Jon like some sort of vampire. He thinks the Web, like Helen, might have always wanted them to lose. 

They don't react with much more surprise than Jon. Georgie just raps a spoon quietly against the side of her mug in quiet, rhythmic acceptance, and Basira says wearily, "I don't know that it matters much now, does it?"

Melanie, lugging the cat onto her lap, makes a small sound of disagreement in her throat. "It matters if they're still… trying to control us, or anything like that," she says. "Martin? Are you still finding them?"

Martin stares down at his hands. Spreads his fingers like he expects to see a string of small webs connecting them, but there is nothing there. "I… yes. Yeah, I am."

No one says anything to that for a moment. What are you really supposed to  _ say?  _ Martin's heard enough statements to know how this  _ should  _ go, but it doesn't seem to be going that way. No ghost spiders. No webby tables or puppet masters. No spiders at  _ all,  _ even. Just webs. 

Jon's first mark, he remembers, was the Web. He wonders if this is important. He wonders if that's what's happened, if the Web has finally come back for Jon after all these years. 

Georgie reaches down to grab Melanie's hand and squeezes. "We'll… we'll have to get some Raid, won't we?" she says lightly, an attempt ar a joke. Melanie snorts, leaning into her shoulder. Martin tries to smile, but it doesn't really work. Hard to smile, now that Jon's gone. 

"What we  _ need  _ to do is to find Jon," he says out loud, looking down at the table. "Before… before he gets hurt. Or worse."

He expects arguments, at least from Basira or Melanie. It's impractical to halt everything, every chance they might have at a plan, just to search for Jon, who likely doesn't even have the power to help them anymore. He doesn't agree with the sentiment, but he can understand it. So he's surprised, just a bit, when he only gets nods and murmured agreement. Determination and concern shining in Georgie's eyes. The Admiral climbing onto the table and meowing, almost like he's putting his agreement in, too. 

Martin feels a wave of relief so powerful he nearly sighs out loud, as he nods right back. A part of him wishes Jon was here, and not just because he missed him; because if Jon were here, he'd say,  _ See? You have friends. People CARE about you, and not just as a tool. And we want you safe, we want you back here with us. Please, please come back.  _

They go out to look, later, Martin and Basira and Melanie. Georgie stays back with the others, mostly because she and Melanie are worried that if they both keep leaving, that the others will be exposed and pulled back into the domains. It seemed to make sense for Melanie to go, even after being disconnected from the Eye, since she's actually worked at the Archives and encountered Elias. Still, Georgie seems to regret it a bit as she kisses Melanie goodbye and tells them to come back safe, and to bring Jon back with them. "Watch out for spiders," Basira tells her seriously, and Martin shudders a little and tries to hide it.

They spend what  _ feels _ like hours (time is still all wrong) searching the streets of what used to be London, all over again. Martin tries to go back to familiar areas, places he thinks Jon might have gone to if he's trying to hide, but it's impossible to find their way to anywhere but the Institute, even with Melanie with them. They go further than they did the first day, though. (It helps that Martin and Basira have both slept since then, and that Martin hasn't been thrown out of a tower.) They look for much longer without getting tired, as long as they possibly can, before Melanie suggests they go back and rest a bit before searching again. 

Being out in the apocalypse again is strange, especially without Jon. Jon isn't stopping every few hours to give a statement, so it's easier to not think about everyone suffering around them, but not impossible. Melanie wants to stop and help people, and Martin doesn't disagree, but it's hard to stop when they've got such a focused goal. They end up being able to pull a couple of kids out of a mirror full of eyes, on the way back, and that does help, but it's hard not to wonder about all the people they  _ didn't  _ save. (He finds himself thinking about it, while they're walking the streets, picturing what must be happening that they can't see. Imagining full scenarios, the people inside and what they must be going through. He can almost hear Jon's voice, making a statement. Maybe it's because he misses Jon, but he knows that as much as he  _ does  _ miss Jon, he doesn't miss those statements. Not at all.)

When they get back, Melanie and Georgie are taken up with settling the kids, and Basira goes off quietly by herself. Martin goes back to their pallet and crawls in alone, wrapping all the blankets around him. Making up for the lack of warmth that comes with Jon being gone. 

Another dream is waiting for him as soon as he falls asleep. He's back in the theater with the clown and the man onstage, but now the man  _ is  _ Tim, standing there onstage looking terrified. And Martin can only watch as the clown moves across the stage towards Tim, stares straight at Martin, and pulls Tim's skin off in one fluid motion while Tim stares at him with accusatory pleading. 

Martin wakes up shouting, with tears on his face, reaching out for someone who isn't there, and missing Tim and missing Sasha and missing Jon, and wondering how they got here. He's finally placed the dream—it's Tim's statement, Tim losing his brother—but he doesn't know why he is dreaming about it, or why he can see it so clearly. Or how Tim has become the one standing onstage. 

The next dream is Jon again, in the cafe, staring at Jess Tyrell hungrily, and Martin wakes up crying all over again. And so it goes, every time he closes his eyes. 

Maybe he should have expected it, after all this time, for things to end this way, for him to end up alone and Jon to be lost or dying and the world to stay ended and for Martin to see horrible things every time he closes his eyes. Maybe he should have expected it, after all this time, but it's hard not to be just a little bit surprised. 

\---

They keep looking. Martin and Basira and either Melanie or Georgie (or sometimes both) go out as often as they can. Martin tries to go alone, sometimes, or stay out longer than the others, insisting that he  _ has  _ to keep looking, he  _ has  _ to, he can't leave Jon alone—but they never let him. "We have to stay together," Melanie says, once. "What's going to happen if we lose you, too, Martin? We can't keep going off on our own."

"I second that," Basira says. "It was a bad idea to leave you guys before, much as I hate to admit it. I barely caught up to you all." 

Martin wants to argue, wants to insist that if he can't go out there alone, than Jon certainly can't be out there alone, but he doesn't bother. Three against one, and anyways, a part of him thinks they're right. Splitting up is probably a horrible idea, all things considered, and they probably  _ are _ stronger together. So they just keep looking, every day, insomuch as there  _ are  _ days. 

It happens for the first time on one of these searches. Martin and Basira are picking through one of the abandoned buildings, and trying to skirt the cameras that are constantly turning towards them, and Basira is wondering if they should look for Jon somewhere  _ outside  _ of London, in one of the other domains. "Guess we both have enough experience going through domains," Martin says wryly, silently adding,  _ Jon, too.  _ And then he's wondering about Basira's journey alone again, what happened that changed her mind about going off alone. "You've… you've never talked about it, actually. How  _ did  _ you get back to London?"

He doesn't mean it as a pressing question, even. Just an idle inquiry. But it doesn't seem to matter. Basira opens her mouth and it all comes spilling out. Her entire journey, from burying Daisy to finding the tunnels and Georgie and Melanie, coming out with the smooth steadiness of… of a  _ statement.  _ It shouldn't be true, but it is, and Martin doesn't know if he is able to interrupt, but he can't even find the wherewithal to  _ try.  _

Several long minutes later, when Basira finishes, the statement glaze goes out of her eyes. It is replaced by immediate confusion, stunned confusion. And  _ anger.  _ "Martin," she says, breathless, "what the  _ fuck  _ was that?"

"I don't know!" Martin says, panicked and frantic. "I don't  _ know,  _ I don't… that's never happened before!"

"How did you…  _ Jon  _ does that, not you, he's the one…"

"I didn't  _ mean  _ to, Basira, okay? That's never happened before, I'm not… I'm not Jon, I can't do that, I don't even think  _ he  _ can do that anymore, and…"

"He's not the Archivist anymore," Basira says. Her hands are clenched, white-knuckled, into fists. She takes a deep, shaky breath. "That's what you said. He's not the Archivist anymore."

"R-right," says Martin, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's right, that's…" 

The tape recorder in Martin's pocket switched on when Basira started talking. And now, Martin can hear the sticky static rising as Basira says, "So… who is?"

Martin's head is thick and buzzing. He shakes it hard; he says, "No…  _ no. _ " Fumbles for the tape recorder and tries to switch it off, mashing the button over and over again with one thumb, but it doesn't go off. It just keeps running and running. Martin looks up at Basira, hands trembling around the recorder, and he says, "It… it can't be. It's not  _ possible,  _ Basira, it's…  _ no! _ " 

Basira's face stays grimly certain. Like she… like she  _ Knows.  _ Martin fumbles with the recorder, keeps hitting the button, but it won't turn off. It keeps playing, clicking on and on the way it has always, always done for Jon.

\---

"Wait, hold on," Melanie says, holding a hand up. "You're… you're telling me  _ you're  _ the Archivist now?"

Martin doesn't answer. He's feeling a little sick. He leans forward and rests his head on his folded arms. 

"Far as I can tell," says Basira. "That's… that's what it seemed like. He just asked a question, and I couldn't stop talking."

"The way it was when Jon asked you a question," Georgie says softly. 

"It  _ felt  _ like giving a statement. Exactly like that. I remember the feeling," Basira says. 

Martin shuts his eyes. He doesn't have the energy to do much else. "I didn't  _ mean  _ to," he says miserably. 

"Don't be an idiot, Martin, we  _ know _ that," Melanie says, in that brusque-but-sort-of-gentle way she has. "It's just… how did this  _ happen?  _ The world is  _ gone,  _ how could Elias… promote you?"

"Does the apocalypse really factor in? I mean, that's… that's how I was able to escape. I think that's how… Daisy was able to travel across domains," says Basira, her voice breaking a little at the end. 

"You really don't know how it happened, Martin?" Georgie says, not unkindly. 

"I  _ don't,  _ I don't know!" Martin snaps, knotting his hands in his hair irritatedly. "I didn't…  _ choose  _ this! And neither did Jon, by the way. He never knew what he was signing up for when he took that promotion, none of us did. He didn't choose to become a monster, and he didn't  _ choose  _ to end the world—Elias forced him to do it! And I didn't choose it, either. I didn't do a goddamn thing."

"We know, Martin, we know. Just…" Basira holds a hand up. 

"No, it's not… it's not  _ fair.  _ You can't keep blaming him for this when he didn't ask for any of it!" Martin says, too loud, unable to stop because he's been wanting to say it for a really long time. "He  _ didn't,  _ he didn't want this for  _ any  _ of us! And I… I-I didn't want it  _ either,  _ all right? I don't  _ want  _ it, I've never wanted it, I didn't  _ ask for it.  _ Okay?"

"Okay. Martin, okay," Melanie says. "I… I get it, I understand." And Martin thinks of the bullet scar in Melanie's leg, remembers the Flesh attack, Melanie hacking into the monsters wildly, almost glowing with bloodlust. And he thinks she really does understand. 

There's silence for a moment. Nothing but the Admiral purring from Martin's lap, where he'd hopped up as soon as they'd sat, like he could sense that Martin was upset. (Martin's starting to understand why Jon loves this cat so much.) Martin pets the cat, rhythmically, and lets his head rest back on his arms, not ready to process any of this. Not ready to even broach the subject. His head is spinning, and he thinks tape recorders are running again, under the table, and he misses Jon so much it physically aches. And then, abruptly, Basira says, " _ Shit. _ " When the rest of them turn towards her, questioningly, she has a hand pressed to her forehead. "Backup," she says. 

"What?" Martin says, just as Melanie says, "Oh, god."

"Backup? What does backup mean?" Georgie asks from where she is leaning into Melanie's side. 

"When we were getting ready for the Unknowing, Martin… decided to stay back with me," Melanie explains. "So we could get that bastard Elias arrested, but obviously  _ he _ didn't know that. And… and Elias…"

"Elias agreed," Martin says numbly, remembering now with horror. "And, Basira… you thought that…"

"You were playing it up in front of Elias, and you said you could help because you'd been reading the statements," says Basira. "And then Elias agreed. And I thought he might've wanted you as a backup, in case Jon didn't come back." 

Georgie's eyes widen in understanding. " _ Shit, _ " Martin hisses, and he lets his head sink back into his arms. All those statements he'd read and recorded over the years, starting as a substitute for Jon before it just became something he  _ did…  _ They were hard, at first, horrible to read, and then they weren't; Jon had told him, once to make sure the others helped, and they had read one or two, but then they'd stopped, and he'd… Is  _ this  _ why this is happening, because he'd wanted to read the statements for Jon? Because Elias had yanked at the puppet strings all over again and left him like  _ this?  _ It doesn't make any  _ sense.  _

But the Eye is fond of him. Jon had told him that. The Eye is fond of him, and it's in his domain, and he's been touched by the Lonely, chosen by the Lonely, but he's rejected the Lonely, broken out of it, and he's—he's a  _ Watcher, _ Jon told him that when they decided to go through his domain. He's been fed by people suffering under the Eye, he  _ made a statement  _ in there, he… he should have known this was a possibility, he should have  _ seen  _ this coming. The—the  _ dreams, _ the moment he could  _ see  _ what was happening in the domains they were passing through, he… he should have  _ Known _ . He's a goddamn idiot. 

"I-I can stay down here," he says quietly, to the top of the table. "I can stay down here, and I'll be cut off from the Eye, a-and…" He can't even finish. He  _ can't _ stay here forever, not if Jon… and not while Elias is still in power, not when there is the slightest  _ chance  _ they might still save the world. 

"Can you even survive like this, Martin?" Georgie asks quietly. "Jon… Jon couldn't."

"That was a year or two  _ after  _ he became the Archivist, though," Basira says. "If Martin's  _ just  _ now become the Archivist…"

"Jon couldn't compel right away, either," says Martin, lifting his head. "Jon wasn't having those dreams right away. This… this isn't  _ like  _ Jon… Becoming. I think I've already… I've been  _ building  _ towards this, it didn't just  _ start  _ like this, it's been… I've been Becoming for a long time, too."

"You can't stay down here anyway, survival or no survival," says Melanie. "I-I mean, no offense, Martin, but we just lost every advantage we  _ have,  _ aside from Georgie and me being immune. I-if Martin is the Archivist now, then maybe he can…"

"Maybe  _ not _ ," says Basira. "Look at what happened to Jon. All that… unlimited, god-like power, and Elias just  _ took  _ it. Why couldn't he do the same to Martin?"

"Probably could," Martin mutters, not sure if he wants that to happen or not. "Not sure I'd be able to… smite him anyway. I don't know. It still feels early. I don't…" He stops there. He isn't sure what else to say. He wasn't forced into ending the world, so he has no control over it? He wishes Jon were here. He wants someone who knows what it's like, someone who's been through this before to tell him what to do. He wants to tell Jon he understands now, a little bit of it, and he's sorry and he's scared and he wants Jon here. He  _ misses  _ him, he wants him safe. That's all he really wants. 

Melanie sighs, tightening her arm around Georgie. "That's great. So, uh, what the hell do we do about this now?"

"Maybe you've got to… develop the powers somehow," Basira says. "Sit on them a little longer. And then we can move against Elias again, and we'll have a  _ plan  _ this time, because we know where he is and what he can do." 

"Ri-ight," Martin says quietly, staring down at his hands. He doesn't want to do that, any of it, but—he doesn't have a  _ choice.  _ Any other sacrifice, he said, aside from losing Jon, and he'd make it. Even if it meant losing himself, to the Eye or the Lonely or even the End. Maybe he'll become dependent on the Fears, the way Jon and Daisy were, maybe he'll hold onto himself like Jon, or lose himself like Daisy. Or maybe he'll give it up—have it taken like Jon, or gouge his eyes out like Melanie (that solution seems fine, Melanie is doing  _ well _ ). And maybe he'll die, when it's gone. Maybe Jon will die, too. But does it matter? If they have a chance— _ any  _ chance—of defeating Elias, does it  _ matter?  _

"Maybe don't… ask questions until then," says Basira. "Or take any more statements." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." 

"And Jon?" Georgie asks. "Can you…  _ See  _ where he is? Like Jon was able to?"

Martin hadn't thought of this before, and he can feel a new sort of hope rising up. "I-I don't know," he says. "I'll try. I-I can try."

\---

Martin can't find Jon. 

At first he thinks it's an issue with the Eye, with the fact that this is all new to him and despite his…  _ advanced progress  _ or whatever, he's still very new to this. But it doesn't seem to be that. He's Known things in the past—he's been running back through recent memories, especially those post-apocalypse, and a lot of odd things that happened before are starting to make a lot of sense. And he can Know things  _ now _ —whenever he reaches for  _ anything  _ that isn't Jon, or Elias, or any of the others in the tunnel, he can See it. He Knows the people around them and what they are going through—a few times, being out of the tunnels, he even slips into statements, the ones Jon used to make. It's a sickening kind of feeling mixed with relief, like vomiting after feeling sick for a very long time. He had no idea what it felt like. 

Still. He reaches and reaches and he can't see Jon, no matter how hard he tries, and the longer it goes on, the more panicked he gets. He's been holding onto the idea, above all other theories, that Jon really did go off on his own to try and… fix things on his own, or whatever, but now he isn't sure. Not being able to See Jon, that has to be a bad sign, doesn't it? Has to mean that he's somewhere where he  _ can't be seen.  _

"It might not mean he's been kidnapped or anything," Basira says, on one of the times she comes up with him. "Maybe… maybe it's like Melanie. You know? He's been cut off from the Eye, and so now he's a blindspot?"

"He didn't… blind himself or anything, though," says Martin, frustratedly. "That we know of, I mean. He was just… demoted. I guess."

"All right, fine. But we don't really know what that  _ means, _ " says Basira. "We don't know that this means something has happened to him. We don't know anything at all."

"I am having some trouble with Knowing, obviously," says Martin, and Basira snorts in dry laughter. He shuts his eyes and tries again, and he gets a few-minutes-long montage of someone named John in a nearby segment of the Corruption. Nothing about his Jon, still. It's never about his Jon. 

Time passes. Martin isn't sure how much, there aren't days and nights. Georgie and Melanie keep searching for people to save. He and Basira keep looking for Jon, and he tries to avoid asking questions outside the tunnels (he only slips a few times), and he keeps Looking for Jon, and there keeps being nothing. The Panopticon stays quiet. Martin guesses either Elias doesn't know that he is (might be) the new Archivist, or he doesn't care. No Jon. No Jon. No Jon. 

It goes on so long Martin isn't sure he can take it, sitting and waiting for something to happen, for the world to change or for Jon to come back. Day in and day out, and Martin is starting to wonder if  _ this  _ will be their forever. And then. 

Martin wakes up one morning, and goes out in search of food, and finds someone different at the breakfast table. Annabelle Cane is there, sitting with Georgie and Basira and Melanie and the Admiral. "Got a visitor, Martin," Melanie says, maybe a little grimly, and takes a sip out of her mug. 

"Annabelle Cane," Martin says, without much questioning in his voice. 

Annabelle smiles, sweetly, and extends her hand as if to shake. "Martin. Excellent to see you. Can we talk?"

\---

"You're the source of all these cobwebs, then," says Martin, once they are alone, waving a hand at the corner of the room they're in. 

Annabelle smiles again. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Don't—don't  _ do  _ that," Martin snaps. "Don't play  _ dumb!  _ I know you've got your—spooky Web plan, and I  _ know  _ you're pulling the strings of things, so—so just  _ tell  _ me!" His throat is thick with tears. He swallows hard against the lump, forces out the words: "Where  _ is  _ he? Just… just,  _ please, _ tell me where he is." Like he still thinks the Web might have taken Jon. 

Annabelle smiles, just a bit. "Haven't you tried Looking for him?"

"You know I have," Martin says rawly, even though he doesn't actually know if that's true. "I can't—I can't _ See  _ him anymore. If I ever could have."

"Interesting, that. I wonder what it could mean." Annabelle crosses her arms over her chest and studies him thoughtfully. 

"Oh,  _ yeah.  _ And you don't know where he is? You have  _ no  _ idea?" Martin says sharply, not believing it for a second.

"I have my theories. But I'm not of the Beholding, Martin. I can't See things; that's your forte," says Annabelle, matter-of-factly. "And that is hardly the matter at hand."

"Okay." Martin rubs a hand over his mouth tiredly. "Okay, so what  _ is  _ the matter at hand? What do you  _ want  _ from me?"

He's not sure he expects her to actually tell him—she was vague enough at Upton, after all. But that isn't what happens at all. Annabelle shrugs, holding her hands out, and says, "It's simple, really. I want you to turn back the world."

Martin blinks, several times, in rapid, rapid surprise. "What—I'm sorry,  _ what? _ " 

"You thought there was a way to turn back the world, didn't you?" says Annabelle. "This is it. You have the ability—you're the only one  _ with  _ the ability, other than Jonah Magnus, and I think we both know, Martin, that he wouldn't do that."

"B-but…  _ me?  _ Why  _ me? _ " Martin says, nearly sputtering with confusion. Sure, he's gotten a part of the Beholding, and he's exhibited… Archivist-like powers since Jon… but he is not  _ nearly  _ as powerful as Jon was, even  _ before  _ the apocalypse, and even now, he's only been like this for a little while, not long at all. And the cobwebs appeared  _ before  _ Jon lost it, and that makes no sense at all, because he hasn't had power when he's met Annabelle in the past, and—and it just doesn't make  _ sense.  _

"I think you know the answer to that question, Martin," Annabelle says. "Think about it. You've been set up to become the next Archivist for a long time, long before Jon ever completely Became. And now the Eye has chosen you, more or less. It's  _ fond  _ of you, remember?" She grins at him. "An Archivist completes the ritual and ends the world. Don't you think the reverse could happen?" 

"But—b-but that doesn't… Elias  _ made  _ him do it, he manipulated Jon, a-and Jon was  _ marked,  _ by all the entities, that's why he was able to…"

"You've encountered a great deal of the fourteen powers yourself, Martin. Not to mention the fact that you've passed through each one of their domains," says Annabelle. "What was that Jon said? The journey will be the journey? Didn't you think the journey had a  _ purpose? _ "

Martin sways back on his feet. Stares down at his hands, like he is expecting to see scars there—a tally of marks,  _ visible  _ marks like Jon has—but there's nothing there. It's not right, he hasn't been through  _ nearly  _ as much as Jon has. "It's… it's not possible," he says numbly. 

"It certainly is. You  _ Know  _ it is," says Annabelle. 

Martin blinks numbly at his hands, looks up at Annabelle like she has any answers. (Apparently, she might.) "So—so that was the reason for the cobwebs. A-and the phone call."

"More or less. Yes."

"B-but  _ that  _ doesn't make sense, it doesn't! You didn't say  _ anything  _ like that. You wouldn't tell us  _ anything  _ at Upton, you… You told me Jon didn't  _ need  _ me," Martin says—and it stings, now, aching deep in his chest at the memory of waking up to find Jon gone. 

"Yes, I did," says Annabelle. "You're a smart lad, though, Martin—you don't think it could go both ways?"

There's a sheaf of paper in her hands now, forms with the Institute's seal at the top. Martin recognizes them; he signed forms like these when he was hired, and when he was transferred to the Archives, and when Peter promoted him. There are bits and pieces that stand out, though, words that jump out at him.  _ Head Archivist.  _ And the paper is coated lightly with cobwebs. 

"You were always the one who wanted to save the world, Martin," Annabelle says invitingly. 

"That's.  _ Not. True, _ " Martin says raggedly, angrily, because Jon is the one who stopped the rituals when he didn't know what they meant, and Jon  _ never,  _ ever asked for this, and not thinking the world can be saved is  _ not _ the same as not  _ wanting _ it saved. And besides that, Jon never… in the beginning, when they left, he wanted to find out for themselves. He killed Helen because he thought she might stop them trying. And this whole time, this  _ whole time, _ he couldn't have just been…  _ pretending.  _ He had, he'd wanted to save the world, too. 

Annabelle shrugs, almost apologetically. "Fine. That's fair. But you've had the most drive to do it, yes? The most motivation, the most belief… I am  _ giving  _ you the chance to do it."

Martin stares at the employment forms, his eyes wide. He wants to do it; of course he wants to do it. He  _ has  _ to do it, actually; he can't just sit by and let people  _ suffer  _ when he could do something about it. That's the entire reason he was going to ask Jon to destroy him, if they couldn't turn things back. But he isn't… he's  _ not  _ a hero, he's barely even an Archivist. And it doesn't make any sense for him to be doing it.  _ Jon _ should do it. Jon's the noble one, the one ready to sacrifice himself to save the world. Jon's the one who might not survive it if the fears are purged away, if the Eye is gone—except the Eye has already been taken from him, and Martin doesn't know where he is, he might already be dead. Martin can't ask Jon what he thinks, but he  _ wants  _ to, he wants to so badly, and he opens his mouth to say all of this to Annabelle, but all that comes out is a croaked, "Jon…" 

"Jonathan Sims is not the Archivist," says Annabelle, simply. "Not anymore. All he is now is a person that the Eye and the Web have a vested interest in. Nothing past that. Turning back the world won't affect him, and neither will leaving it the way it is."

Martin's throat is thick with unfallen tears, and he knows (he  _ Knows _ ) that if Jon isn't dead yet, he won't survive forever without the Eye. But… but Jon  _ did _ want to try and save the world. He did; he probably would have sacrificed himself to do it, if he could have. And if he won't be affected either way… 

Martin swallows hard. Opens his mouth and says something else in an attempt to clear his mind. "Wh-what's with the forms?" he says. "Isn't—isn't the process  _ complete?  _ I… compelled Basira, I've been having the dreams, I—I've  _ Seen  _ things!"

"I suppose it's more or less symbolic. Although certainly recent events could be a development of the Beholding you've always had… remember, you were of the Eye even  _ while _ Jon was the Archivist," says Annabelle. "But this?" She holds out the cobwebbed forms, invitingly. "This… completes the process, shall we say. All you have to do is sign."

Martin's hand tugs towards the document, without his permission. There is a pen there, where there wasn't before, and it's scratching the surface of the webbed form in Annabelle's hand. Signing on the dotted line:  _ Martin Blackwood.  _ His hand moves jerkily, his letters wobbly, as if a string attached to his wrist is pulling it along. 

And then his limb is his again, and he's yanking it away, dropping the pen. "Don't—don't  _ do  _ that," he snaps, shaking and stumbling a few steps back. "I don't like being  _ controlled. _ "

Annabelle shrugs, tucking the form away in her pocket. "Whatever you'd like."

Martin rubs his wrist, like he expects to find spider web wrapped around it, but there is nothing there. "I… I-I'm the Archivist now, then?" he says. "No choice in the matter?"

"Did Jon have any choice in the matter?" Annabelle says. "Yes, you are the Archivist, and in a way, you already were; this has just made it official. And now you  _ do  _ have a choice to make. You can stay the Archivist, feed off of this new world and serve the Eye completely. Be as powerful as Jon once was, have the entire world at your mercy. The only one your power would clash with is Jonah Magnus."

"Or," says Martin, because he knows there is more. He doesn't need the Beholding for that; she has already  _ told  _ him the rest. He just wants to hear her say it. 

Annabelle smiles widely. "Or you can turn the world back," she says. "Save everyone, banish these powers from this world. And give it all up just like that." 

"And probably  _ die, _ right?" Martin snaps. 

"Maybe. I couldn't tell you for sure. But if you die from being cut off from the Eye, I would guarantee that Jon will, too."

Martin bites back a groan of frustration and anger. Presses a hand hard over his eyes and says, "Why do you even  _ want  _ the world to go back? A-according to Elias, you all are the ones who started all of this!" (He'd listened to the tape of Jonah Magnus's statement. Of course he had.)

"That was before my time, Martin," Annabelle says, sounding amused. "But… who can say, really? Maybe we just wanted to see what would happen."

When Martin takes his hand down, Annabelle is smiling sweetly. He does sigh this time, out loud. "You'll need to give me time to think," he says. "Talk to the others. Before I make a decision." He needs to understand the full extent of the situation before he does anything—what if this is a trap, something he can't take back?

"Of course," says Annabelle. She turns, as if to leave, moves towards the door before adding, over her shoulder, "I wouldn't wait  _ too _ long, though. Jon is depending on you."

And before Martin can push her, ask her what the hell  _ that  _ means and what she knows, she is gone. The room is empty, aside from the starbusting patterns of webs in every corner.

\---

Martin fills the others in, after Annabelle leaves, and by the end, it isn't any easier than before to gauge what he needs to do. Georgie thinks it's an easy decision—"You've got to do it," she says. "Who cares if it's what the Web wants? If it can  _ help  _ people…"

"What if it's a trap, though?" Basira says, in counterpoint, voicing Martin's earlier worries. "What if it's all a trick, and if Martin does this, everyone will only be worse off?" 

"How can anything be worse than  _ this? _ " says Georgie. "I think it's worth a try. That's why you came all this way, right? To turn things back?"

"It—it is. Of  _ course  _ it is. I just…" Martin hesitates. Turns to Melanie, who hasn't said anything yet, and says, "Melanie? What do you think?"

Melanie's chewing on a thumbnail absently. "I don't… I don't know," she says quietly. "I mean, it would be  _ great  _ if this worked, if we could really help people, but… I don't know. I've read the statements on the Web. I'm not sure we can trust them." 

Georgie gently bumps her knee against Melanie's. "You don't think there's…  _ any  _ chance this could be real? That this could really put things right?"

"I mean, there's a chance, sure. I really don't know." Melanie leans against Georgie's chair. "Do you want to try it, Martin? Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Told her I'd have to think about it," says Martin. "Discuss it with you all. As enlightening as that has been."

Melanie snorts loudly. "Excuse  _ us, _ Martin. Last I checked, you took over the psychic omniscient position; shouldn't you  _ Know  _ what to do?"

"I don't think the Eye gives advice, exactly," Basira says tiredly. "Jon never knew what he was doing."

"Come on, that's not fair—" Martin starts, but he's halted when Georgie holds up a hand. "This is getting us nowhere," she says. "Martin, you said Annabelle said something weird about Jon?" 

Martin winces a little at that. "Y-yeah, she said… she said not to wait too long because… Jon was depending on us. And she acted like she didn't know where Jon was before, but then she said that…"

"Something's up," says Melanie, "if she's putting it like that. And I don't think it's that Jon is skulking around guiltily somewhere trying to save the world by himself."

"We should look for him," says Georgie, her voice shot through with urgency. "Right now. See if we have any luck this time—"

"Any more luck than the last dozen times?" says Basira. 

"Why not? It's not like the world will be any  _ more  _ ended in a few hours," Georgie says. "Look, if he's in trouble, we need to find him. And, I mean, Jon knows the Web better than any of us, with that encounter when he was a kid, and all of those statements he read… we could see what he thinks. Maybe he can help."

Martin's nodding immediately, almost before Georgie can finish. "You're right. We should go now."

"You really think we have a chance at finding him, quick enough to make this decision?" says Basira. "We haven't had any luck for  _ weeks _ ."

"Whatever weeks  _ are, _ in this place," Melanie mutters. 

"I don't know. But it's worth a try," says Martin, firm as he can. "Maybe I'll be able to  _ See _ something this time. We… we should go up and try it."

"It feels like a waste of time," Basira says, a little reluctantly. "I mean, I want to find Jon, too, but…"

"We can't do anything right now. We haven't come to a decision yet," says Georgie. "So… so we might as well try to look for him, while we think things over. If he's in trouble…"

She doesn't finish; she doesn't need to. They've all seen or heard about what happens when Jon is in trouble. Martin chews on his lip to hold back a wince, looking away. He doesn't want to wait. He wants Jon safe with them, and he wants to hear what Jon thinks. This has been Jon's world, Jon's power and Jon's decisions driving them forward for so long… it feels wrong to decide something so significant without him. 

"Let's go, then," Melanie says, finally. "Might as well not waste time."

So within a few minutes, the four of them are pushing their way up and through the hatch. Martin has done this so often that it feels natural now, that feeling of stepping out into the apocalypse, the wasteland left behind. The glass tower of the Panopticon towers over them still. 

They have to take a few steps away from the tunnel before Martin tries to See Jon—he's found it's better if he actually gets away from the tunnels before he tries to call on power from the Eye. That's what they're doing when it comes—walking away. Melanie's a few steps ahead, trying to give Martin space from her anti-Eye bubble (her words), and Georgie's starting to speed up to catch up with her, when it hits them. The king of this ruined world is sending them a message. 

The image pushes into his mind, involuntarily, so quickly that Martin wonders if there is any way to stop it, if this has ever happened to Jon. It's like when Elias tortured him on the day of the Unknowing, except worse, because he can  _ feel  _ it. And he knows the others can see it, too, or at least Basira and Georgie, because he can hear Basira's sharp gasps, can feel Georgie's nails suddenly digging into his arms. He can  _ feel  _ Elias forcing the image into his mind, and he can't help but wonder  _ how  _ he has the power to do this, but a part of him finds he doesn't care. 

It's  _ Jon. _ Jon, lying unconscious, pale with dark circles around his eyes, at the foot of the throne where Jonah Magnus's corpse sits. Lying there with his hands tied. Elias is standing near him, over him, and he has a knife in his hands. He lifts his head and turns it around, and Martin swears it's like he is looking straight at him. (Probably he is.)

"Hello, Martin," says Elias, his tone smug and calculating. "I wanted to give you a full understanding of the situation. I'm  _ sure  _ you've been worried about poor Jon." He motions to Jon's prone form on the ground. Martin thinks in the real world, in the version of him who is not here, he makes a raspy little pained sound in the back of his throat.

"I hope we understand each other," Elias says. "And what would result if you made any attempts to… sabotage things." His hand tightens around the knife. 

On the floor, Jon groans, his head turning back and forth. Martin tries to cry out— _ Jon! _ —but his voice isn't working, and his vision goes spotty at the edges. And then it's gone. He's back outside again, with Basira looking vaguely nauseous and Georgie leaving white fingernail-shaped marks in the skin of Martin's arm. "What?" Melanie says, her voice loud and confused. "What, what's happening? Georgie?" Her hand fumbles until it finds Georgie, pressing against her cheek. 

"It's all right, Mel, it—it's just…" Georgie says weakly, leaning into her hand, without finishing. 

" _ Jon, _ " Martin croaks out, and he presses his hands hard against his eyes. "Jon, he… Elias has him."

"In the Panopticon," says Basira, grim and sounding sick. "Jesus  _ Christ.  _ Does he  _ ever  _ not get kidnapped?"

"Not the  _ time,  _ Basira!" Martin snaps. "We—we've got to get him out of there, we—we can't just  _ leave  _ him there!"

"You  _ can't _ go in there," says Basira. "No way. He'll just do to you what he did to Jon, and then we really  _ will _ be fucked."

"How do you know he can't do it to me out here? How do you know he couldn't do it whether I go or not?" Martin says tightly, turning away from them to stare at the Panopticon. One way mirrored glass, Jon had said, and Martin knows it's true; he can't see any sign of Jon at all.

"Because if he could do it no matter where you are, wouldn't he have done it when Jon was walking around smiting everyone in your path?" Melanie points out, her arm wrapping around Georgie. 

"Maybe he didn't think we'd come after him," Martin says harshly, even though that makes no sense. "And anyway, it  _ doesn't matter!  _ I'm going after him, I can't just  _ leave  _ him there, I've done that  _ enough  _ and I won't do it again…"

"Martin, if you go and he takes your… Archivist powers away, you won't be able to turn the world back," says Basira. 

"I can't do it anyway. I-I can't, he said he'd kill Jon if I…" Martin can't finish. His throat is thick; he feels on the verge of the tears. 

"There's got to be another way," Georgie says, sounding sick. "T-to get Jon out and make sure the world isn't…"

"We could go back into the tunnels," Basira says quietly, pushing Martin closer to Melanie with a hand on his back, like she's going to cloak them from Elias's Eye by sheer power of her being disconnected from the Eye. (Maybe that would work; Martin doesn't know.) "He couldn't see us there, and then we could…"

"Martin would be disconnected from the Eye there. Wouldn't work," Melanie says grimly. 

"We… should go back to the tunnels anyways. Get our bearings, t-talk this over," Georgie tries.

"I  _ can't. _ I can't leave him there, I can't…" Martin moves towards the Panopticon automatically, like he is moving through water, only thinking that he  _ has  _ to get to Jon, he won't leave him alone there, he  _ can't…  _

Basira's hand closes around his arm and tugs him back. "Martin, stop," she says evenly. "No one's suggesting we leave him there, we just… we need a plan. We  _ need _ to talk this through."

"What's the point?" Martin says miserably, wiping at his cheek with the back of one hand. He can't shake the image of Jon unconscious on that floor; it's been burned into the back of his brain. "He's  _ always _ one step ahead of us. Always has been." They can't win. He understands, now, why Jon never wanted to leave the safehouse, why he paused outside of the Panopticon; they  _ can't win.  _

"It's a good thing, then, that you've been aligned with something that is also good at planning." 

Martin whirls along with Basira, but there's no need; he'd know that voice anywhere. Annabelle Cane is there, hands in her pockets, tipping her head at them expectantly. "Annabelle," Melanie says, her voice dry. "I thought you'd be back."

"Lovely to see you all again. We should talk, shouldn't we?" 

"Sure. And maybe you can explain why you  _ left out  _ the fact that Jon is being held captive by Elias!" says Martin, his voice hard. 

"I have my reasons. Same as you and yours," says Annabelle. "Hear me out, though. I think you'll like what I have to say."

\---

"Do you trust her?" Basira asks, later, when they're alone, still in the tunnels, clustered under the trapdoor. They've talked it all out, now, they know what they're supposed to do, but Martin doesn't feel at ease, really, not after everything. 

"No," he says. "I… I want to, I guess. If it keeps Jon safe. But I…" He swallows hard, swipes at his eyes. "I don't know. Do we have a choice?"

"Guess we don't," Georgie says, grim. "But I don't like this plan. It's insanely dangerous, and there's no guarantee any of us will make it out."

"Oh, there's never any guarantee of  _ that, _ " Melanie says wryly. "But I'll admit it: I like our part."

"Of  _ course _ you like our part. You've been jonesing for an excuse to do something like this for a while." Georgie leans in to kiss the top of Melanie's head. 

"Well,  _ yeah.  _ But I like the idea of keeping you with me, too." Melanie squeezes Georgie's hand. Martin looks away, trying not to think of holding Jon's hand through all the different fear domains, trying not to wish too hard that Jon was here, too. (Jon  _ should  _ be here. He should have a part of this—and Martin has to remind himself that they're getting him out, that he'll be all right. Annabelle said he'd be protected, that they had ways of keeping him safe—and even if Martin doesn't trust the Web, he has to believe that is true.)

"So I guess that's a no, then," Basira says, staring down at the gun in her hands. "Me either, really. I don't trust her."

"We know," Melanie says. "Good instinct, that. And when this is all over, we can go back to not trusting her."

Basira snorts with quiet laughter. "Think that applies to a couple different things." She looks around among them, shifting the gun in her hands. "So we're ready, then?"

Georgie and Melanie nod. Martin swallows, looks at the floor, adds his nod to the mix. "We've got this," he says, trying his hardest to believe it. He thinks that might be the only way they're getting out of this. 

In one fluid motion, Basira pushes the trapdoor open again. 

\---

Jon is awake when they get to the room at the top, the one where they found Elias before, and Martin's stomach flips in sick relief when they see him. A mixture of what Martin thinks is relief and panic floats across Jon's face. "Basira," he says, " _ Martin— _ " and he starts to stand up, fumbling to his feet unsteadily with bound hands. 

Martin pushes forward, making it a few steps, before Basira's hand closes over his wrist, and when he starts to say something, Elias reappears, yanking Jon back and to the side in such a sharp motion that Martin's throat closes around a furious protest. He's looking at Martin and Basira smugly, dressed smartly and looking as annoyingly put together as ever; the only thing that distorts the picture is the dried blood around his eyes. "Martin," he says, smoothly. "I thought you'd come. And Detective; this is certainly a surprise. Glad to see you've fared well in this new world." He has a knife in the hand that isn't holding onto Jon, held somewhere approximately at Jon's elbow. 

" _ Not  _ a Detective," Basira snaps, gun held out in front of her. 

"Let him  _ go, _ " Martin blurts, unable to hold it back anymore. 

Elias smiles, sickeningly. "No."

"Martin," says Jon, almost sounding sick himself. "Martin, I'm sorry—" He cuts off his words abruptly when Elias presses the knife against his throat, right over the scar Daisy left behind.

Martin's vision goes spotty, thinking of the Hunt domain and Trevor Herbert, his hands hard on Martin and his knife at Martin's throat (he has a scar just like Jon's), of the stories Jon told him in the safehouse about Daisy and the wax museum and Julia and Trevor's creepy safehouse in America, and his chest tightens predictably, and he pushes forward again before Basira pulls him back. "Martin,  _ don't, _ " she says quietly, through gritted teeth. In a louder voice, she says, "Elias, let him go. You don't need him, he isn't any use to you…"

"Oh, I would disagree with you on that one," says Elias. "You see, I didn't anticipate any sort of  _ promotion  _ taking place after our last confrontation, Martin. But, well. I suppose the Archivist  _ is _ a position that must be filled. So I thought it would be a good move to have some… leverage. In case we came to a disagreement."

"You mean, you wanted to get Martin here so you could take his powers," says Basira. She's lifted her gun, has it pointed at Elias—and Jon too, now. "Way you took Jon's. So he can't turn the world back."

Elias shrugs. "Interesting how the tables turn, isn't it?"

Martin's eyes, searching wildly, land on Jon's. His are wide, fearful and sad, and Martin swallows hard when their gazes meet. He's missed him so much. He doesn't know how long it has been since Jon's disappeared, but it's been a long time; he knows that. He can't stop looking at Jon, the ropes around his wrists and the bruises around his eyes, the quivering that seems to have overtaken him.  _ I'm so sorry,  _ he wants to say,  _ I'm so sorry I took so long.  _ He settles for looking Jon in the face, trying to send these messages along as best he can. He remembers how Jon offered him a gentle smile in the midst of Trevor Herbert holding him hostage, an attempt at reassurance, and so he tries the same; it comes out wobbly and it doesn't last long, but he thinks Jon might understand. 

Elias continues, "How does it feel, Martin, now that the shoe is on the other foot? Now that  _ you  _ are the one with the power and Jon is the one who is helpless? Are you feeling guilty at all, for all the moments you were angry at him for not being able to control it? Feeling differently about its usefulness, or inconvenience? Have  _ you _ managed to, er,  _ smite _ anyone that he did not find deserving?"

"Shut  _ up, _ " Jon snaps. "Martin—" He's cut off with a pained noise when the knife bears in. 

"Elias,  _ stop! _ " Martin says, nearly shouting. "That's  _ enough.  _ Let him go."

"Why would I? What do you have to offer, other than your lies about not planning to turn the world back?" Elias grins, pressing the knife in so hard that Martin can see a drop of blood. That's going to scar, all over again, he thinks dizzily. "You forget, I have the power here. This is the world that  _ I've _ made."

"I don't think that's true," Basira says evenly, her voice tight. "Seems to me, you used _Jon_ to end the world. And it seems to me that now you're relying on Martin to keep it that way."

"I'm  _ relying _ on Martin's willingness to let Jon die. Which he has already refused to do," says Elias. "He said he'd pay  _ any price  _ but that—that was it, wasn't it, Martin? Any price but Jon?"

Elias's hand is steady on the knife. Jon makes another pained sound, eyes half-shut; Martin makes a furious sound and starts towards them again, but he only makes a few more steps before something stops him. Not Basira, not this time—it's sudden pain, this time, shooting through his chest and stomach. He groans out loud in sudden, sharp pain; he hears Jon cry out, "Martin!" as he sinks forward onto his knees, and he knows (Knows) then that Melanie and Georgie have reached the Archives. 

Martin feels Basira's free hand come down on his shoulder reassuringly; he forces his head up and sees Jon staring at him worriedly, trying to pull away from Elias. He sees Elias staring at him with confusion, first, uncertainty. And then slow understanding dawns on his face. Understanding and fury. "Martin," he says sharply, "what have you  _ done? _ " and his voice sounds like it did when it forced horrible visions of Martin's mum into his mind. 

Martin can't help it; despite the fear and the anger and the desperation and the  _ pain, _ he smiles. Smiles as smug as he can, lifting his chin and staring Elias right in the eye. "Better go, Elias," Basira says from behind Martin, squeezing his shoulder a little. "I think you'll want to see this."

Elias curses, his hand loosening around the knife; Martin watches Jon try to wriggle away from the blade, and he briefly feels hopeful, but then Elias moves backwards in a rapid motion, towards the door, and he pulls Jon along with him.  _ No,  _ Martin tries to say; he pushes the first syllable or so out before another wave of pain hits him and it turns into another groan. (He can  _ feel  _ the fire, the heat of it; he can smell the smoke.) Elias is getting away, and he's yanking a struggling Jon with him, and a new desperation rises in Martin, a tight, wild determination, and he blurts the words without thinking about them. He starts, "Ceaseless Watcher…" and Elias makes a wordless, furious sound. 

And then the eye in the sky turns on them. Martin can feel it; he isn't sure if it's responding to him or to Elias, but he doesn't guess it matters. He can feel it, Looking at them, and between this and the pain of the burning Archives and  _ all  _ of it… it's too much. Martin sways in place, dizzy; he searches for Elias and Jon and finds nothing. He thinks he hears Jon shouting his name; he tries to call out for him, but his voice comes out in a rasp. He can smell smoke. "Martin!" Basira shouts, and her hand is on his shoulder again, and Martin can't find Jon. He feels himself sway forward, face about to hit the floor, and around him, he hears the sound of dozens of tape recorders switching on. 

\---

He hears his name, first muffled, as if through many layers, and then louder. "Martin!" Basira is shaking him awake. "Martin, are you all right? Can you stand?" 

Martin blinks himself awake, pushes himself into a sitting position. He grips Basira's arm, turns to look at her as he says, "Where's Jon?"

"Dunno. Elias took him." Off what Martin assumes is his own panicked look, she adds, "He'll be fine. Annabelle said he'd be protected, remember?"

This isn't especially reassuring, but Martin pushes past it; he says, "Melanie? Georgie?"

"Haven't seen them. I—the Archives are still burning. And Elias can't see them, so they're—" Basira cuts herself off. Shakes her head and says, "You have to do it now. Right now."

"What,  _ now?  _ H-how can I…?"

"There won't be another time! The Archives are burning and that's taking a  _ lot _ out of you. And if we go and look for Elias, he might stop you. You've got to do it now, while he's distracted, so he won't kill Jon."

Martin feels another wave of dizziness; he swallows back nausea and says, "He… he might just kill Jon anyway."

"From what you've told me, he might not live long anyway," Basira says, not unkindly. Martin shuts his eyes, feels a deep burn of oncoming tears, and Basira shakes his shoulder a little. "Come on, Martin, we've got to do this. Right now. I… I'll help you," she says. Static rises in the air with her words. And when she says that, Martin Knows that she can. 

"Okay. Okay," Martin says, and he reaches for a tape recorder. One is there for him; one is always there. 

Basira adjusts her hold on the gun, looks at the tape recorder, and then at the door. "Do you know what to say?" she asks. 

"Annabelle said I'd Know," says Martin. 

"Okay. Good." Basira keeps her eyes on the door. "I'll keep a lookout."

Martin turns back, pulls the tape recorder into his lap and gets ready to begin. It feels unceremonious. No sheet of paper to clutch or anything like that. Nothing forcing him to say this except his own desire to see things change. No possession here at all, unless Jon is here with him somehow. (Martin hopes he is, somehow. A part of him doesn't want to do this alone.)

He takes a deep breath. Switches on the tape recorder, because it feels right. "Statement of… the Archivists," he says, because this is Jon's doing as much as his. Jon fought as hard as Martin did, and Jon should be here doing this right now, but since he isn't, Martin will make sure Jon has his say. "Concerning the turning back of the world. Statement recorded by Martin Blackwood and Basira Hussain." 

Basira makes a sound of amusement, but Martin doesn't look at her. He clears his throat. Lets his fingers dance over the recorder, feeling the buttons, the familiar weight of three years of his life. Steadies himself to turn things back as best he can. He says, "Statement begins."

\---

He doesn't remember the ritual. Maybe that's for the best. There's a tape if he ever wants to listen to it, but he doesn't think he does. 

There's a storm, he thinks. Thunder, lightning. Wind that drips through the throne room and threatens to push him over. Whatever came, whatever Jonah Magnus let in, it doesn't want to leave. 

It  _ does _ leave. Martin is sure of this. He can feel the loss when he wakes up, immediately, like a gaping hole. 

He wakes up on the floor of the Panopticon—the  _ original,  _ dusty, ruined Panopticon, not the shiny new throne room it had become after the apocalypse. He wakes up lying on the floor with Jon leaning over him, his eyes dark and wet. His hand is cool on Martin's cheek, and he says, "Martin?" in a quiet, prodding voice, and there is blood all along his front. 

"Jon!" Martin chokes out, panicked, jerking forward and up, hand flying forward to cover the wound. Jon catches it halfway up, though, and holds it tight, says quickly, "Oh, no, it's, um, all right, it's—it's not my blood."

Martin blinks, squeezes Jon's wet hand in his and asks quietly, "Elias?"

Jon nods, his face darkening. "Dead," he says. "I, uh, can confirm. It was me."

"Good," says Martin immediately, and he closes his other hand over Jon's. "You're—you're all right," he says, thickly, and Jon nods, and Martin jerks forward to wrap his arms around him. Jon makes a little sound and leans into him; Martin tightens his arms around Jon and presses his lips to the side of Jon's head. "Did he hurt you?" he whispers, and Jon shakes his head, and Martin feels relief tighten throughout him, and he tugs Jon a little closer. "You're really all right," he whispers. "God, I was—I was so  _ worried, _ Jon."

"I love you," Jon says abruptly, his voice shaking. "Martin, I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Don't  _ apologize _ , Jon, not for this, not…" Martin shakes his head, leans his face into Jon's shoulder and says, "I love you too. A-a-and we're  _ alive,  _ all right? Th-that's all that matters, okay, we're alive, a-and Elias is dead, and the world is…" Martin stops mid-sentence, pulls back a little to look at Jon. "The world?" he asks again, shakily. 

Jon smiles, just a little. "It's… it's all gone back, Martin. The people… I don't know how, o-or what people will remember, b-but I've seen it, it all looks normal again. You  _ did it, _ you turned it back."

"Oh my god." Martin lets his head fall forward against Jon's shoulder, feels Jon's hand in his hair. "It… it should've been you," he says quietly. "I had no place in all of this."

"That isn't true. You know that isn't true, but it's not… it doesn't matter. It doesn't…" Jon leans forward abruptly and kisses Martin, a euphoric sort of kiss that Martin leans into gratefully. "It's over now, it's done, it's  _ gone, _ " he says, his voice full of grief and relief all at once. 

Martin nods, unable to say anything else. He just leans into the embrace, unable to feel anything else but his own immense relief that Jon is back. They're silent for a moment, just clinging to each other in the broken husk of Jonah Magnus's throne room, before Martin remembers and sits up, looking around the room. "Basira?" he asks Jon. 

"Yes, she's all right, sh-she came to a little before you did," says Jon. "She's… looking for Georgie and Melanie."

"The Archives are gone now?" Martin says, and it really is a question—he doesn't Know. 

"I-I think so." Jon looks a little sick at that, but he shakes this away. 

"And Elias is dead now," says Martin, and he can't help but feel satisfied at that. The memories of everything Elias has done burns hot in his throat, and a part of him can't take his eyes off the newly bleeding cut across Jon's throat. He deserved it; whatever Jon did to him, he deserved it.

"Y-yeah. He is." Jon looks down at the floor. "I… I almost feel bad that I did it alone. You should've been a part of that, o-or Melanie…"

"You deserved to have killed him as much as anyone, Jon," says Martin. "Th-this is all over, and he's  _ dead,  _ a-and that's all that matters, okay?" It's over, and they're  _ together. _ A part of him hadn't really believed they would be, in the end. 

He presses his face back against the crook of Jon's shoulder, and Jon's fingers tighten around his jacket, and they stay like that (together, on the floor of the Panopticon) for a long time. They only get up (slowly, leaning on each other, Martin fumbling to slide his fingers through Jon's slick-with-blood ones) when they hear footsteps pounding up the stairs outside the door. And then Basira and Melanie and Georgie are there—Basira looking tired and mussed, her eyes tinted the slightest bit green around the edges; Georgie and Melanie smudged with soot and ash and smelling of smoke; but all of them  _ alive _ —pushing into the room, and Georgie is pushing forward to hug a stunned Jon tightly, and Melanie is throwing a lighter ( _ Jon's  _ lighter, with the spiderweb) across the room, and Basira is offering Martin a grim but sincere smile, and Martin finally feels himself relax. The world is better. He doesn't need an eldritch power, or even to look out the window, to know that. 

\---

Later. Later, they are in the tunnels again. Maybe they should have gone home, but Jon and Basira don't have a flat, and the Admiral is still down in the tunnels (greeting them with excited purrs, weaving through all of their legs and climbing all over Jon), and Georgie and Melanie don't want to trek halfway across London before they sleep. So they set up in the tunnels, just for now. They've got all the time in the world to figure the rest out. 

Later, most of the rest are asleep—Georgie and Melanie on the queen-sized mattress they got down here somehow, with the Admiral curled up between them; Basira curled up on her old cot from the Archives, curled around something Jon identifies as one of Daisy's old t-shirts. (It's got a light crusting of old dirt on it.) Jon and Martin are still awake, propped up on a mound of pillows against the wall, a new bandage on Jon's neck. Martin holds both Jon's hands in his, lets his head rest against Jon's, and tries not to think too much about the question he knows he's got to ask. 

In the end, Jon's the one to ask it for him. "The Eye…" he says, in a wavering, uncertain voice. 

"It's gone," says Martin, uncertain with whether he should feel relieved or horrified. "I'm… I'm not the Archivist anymore, either."

"Oh," says Jon, and it sounds like he doesn't know how to feel, either. He turns his head to kiss Martin's jaw, leaves his mouth pressed there for a moment longer. 

"I… I don't know if I was… dependent…" Martin starts and then stops, unable to finish. He's thinking, now, about how long he spent in these tunnels wondering if Jon was already gone. Now he's wondering how long Jon will have left. 

" _ Martin, _ " Jon says roughly, and his face presses into the space beneath Martin's chin. 

"I don't…" Martin says weakly. He squeezes Jon's hands. "How… are you… feeling all right? Have you been… fading?"

"I-I don't know. I-i-it's hard to tell," says Jon. "I was, uh, I was already sort of… weak, from being in the tunnels, and then when Elias… I-I was out of it, when he took me… while he had me, I was… I-I slept a lot. I couldn't see you, any of you. I tried and I couldn't… The Eye was gone, but I was still there, in its place of power. A-and it's hard to tell how much of it  _ now _ is… is-is that, and not… fading." Jon rearranges their hands, slips his fingers back through Martin's. "A-a-and you?" he asks, softer this time. 

"I don't know. I-I'm not sure it's… been long enough," says Martin, just as soft. It could be because they don't want to wake the others, but he knows that isn't it. 

"Maybe you won't fade, Martin," Jon says, his voice shot through with a thrum of hopefulness now. "Y-you weren't the Archivist for very long, and you…" 

"I-I don't know, Jon. I… don't think it's the same as when you were…" Martin can't finish. He doesn't know what else to say. He knows he doesn't want to stand by and watch Jon die, knows he doesn't want to be the last one standing. He doesn't want to die, but he doesn't want Jon to die, either. He doesn't want  _ either _ of them to die, he doesn't… 

He cuts off this train of thought. He says, "Annabelle couldn't tell me. If I'd survive being cut off from the Eye—if  _ either _ of us could… she said i-if… if I couldn't survive, then you… y-you couldn't, either."

"She serves the Web. Not the Eye," Jon says darkly. "How can we trust what she says?"

"I don't know. I… I guess she did save the world," says Martin. "Or… forced me to. That should account for something."

"And helped me kill Jonah Magnus," says Jon. (He hasn't told them much about his altercation with Elias, how he got free and got a knife. He's just said that there were spiders. None of them have pressed.)

(They haven't seen Annabelle since all of this ended. Martin thinks maybe she's gone back to the house on Hilltop Road, but he won't press. Maybe he should trust the Web after all of this, but that feels unwise. He can't help feeling that this is what they'd want—to pull him into a false sense of security. And he won't do that. Not considering what a role the Web played in Jon being forced to end the world in the first place.)

"I don't… I don't think we're going to know for a while," says Jon. "Not right away."

Martin makes a faint noise of grieving amusement. "What, whether or not the both of us can survive without the Eye?"

"Yes." Jon's head drops heavily to Martin's chest; he's curled deeply into Martin's side. 

Martin lifts his arms to wrap around Jon and tries not to root through it all in his head, all the possibilities. (That the both of them will die someday soon. That one of them will die and the other won't—he's not sure he could take that. Or both of them surviving for a long while yet. He's not sure it matters in the long run, maybe—they'll have to die eventually, now that they are both human again. But he knows which option he would prefer, the outcome he hopes for.) 

"I… I suppose we'll have to wait," he says, hushed, to the top of Jon's head. 

Jon nods, eyes mostly shut. "I suppose so." He tugs a little at Martin's shirt, turns his face further into his chest. "In—in the meantime…"

"In the meantime… we're all alive," Martin whispers. "The world is normal again. A-and we're together."

"We're together," Jon echoes quietly. 

When Martin reaches for his hand again, he takes it, holding on tightly. Martin shuts his eyes and holds onto Jon and leans into him, waiting with him for whatever comes next. 

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings for this fic include: some canon-typical violence and horror, web manipulation, kidnapping/hostage situations, some displays of suicidal tendencies/expecting to die/being willing to die for something (mostly within the context of 186), and an ambiguous ending (aka it being unclear if/how long characters will survive). 
> 
> some notes:
> 
> \- i referenced several episodes in here. aside from the majority of season 5, i also reference specific statements in mag 100, 104, 142, 167, 169, 171, 173, and 186.
> 
> \- i'm sorry jon is barely in this. it seemed to work initially and then i got the idea for the final confrontation and ran with it. 
> 
> \- this fic could have been a hell of a lot shorter if i'd been able to stomach killing off jon, but i really didn't want to do that. i'm sure we'll get plenty of fun in that vein with the end of the series coming up (haha)
> 
> \- i did want to write this like it could conceivably be the end of the show, hence the bittersweet ending, but this isn't exactly how i'm hoping tma will end? (i'm slightly masochistic and kind of want jon and martin to die together.) 
> 
> \- i started a post 189 jon & georgie fic that i probably wont finish before 190 that was about them reconciling, so i included a couple things i wanted to put there in here. (georgie expressing a desire to reconcile, martin telling people that it wasnt jon's fault the world ended, georgie and jon actually hugging...) just so you know: yes they've reconciled here. they're gonna be okay. 
> 
> \- i have no idea what the web is up to, or how it's gonna play out. i've been relistening to tma and my opinion changes like every episode. this is just kinda one interpretation i have of what the web might be planning, and why annabelle cane is interested in martin. 
> 
> \- apologies for all the details i may or may not have fudged. i tried to keep things as consistent as possible but i feel like i probably missed a thing or two. 
> 
> \- someday i will write a tma fic WITHOUT a dramatic reunion. that day is not today. 
> 
> thank you again for reading!! you can find me on tumblr at @ghostbustermelanieking, where i am always ready to discuss this insane show as it draws to a close.


End file.
